


Creature of Habit

by D_Veleniet



Category: Mozart in the Jungle (TV)
Genre: Canon-Compliant, F/M, Hailstro, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scenes, and then uh...not, season 3-compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 09:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11461206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_Veleniet/pseuds/D_Veleniet
Summary: Hailey comforts Rodrigo over Maestro Rivera's death.  Later, they talk about the four times they kissed and the one time they didn't.  Set during "Now I Will Sing."





	Creature of Habit

**Author's Note:**

> Started because I had to write a scene where Rodrigo mourns his Maestro (because honestly?! He just lost his father figure!!) and Hailey is there to comfort him, of course. And then it just sort of...devolved into this. :-p As I said before, I have like 8 more ideas and am actually working on fic #3 now because I LOVE these two. Hope you enjoy! :)

Old habits died hard. 

Logically, Hailey knew that she was probably the last person (or maybe the second-to-last) that Alessandra wanted to see.   

Alessandra was most likely being bombarded by hordes of admirers falling over themselves to congratulate her on  _La_ _Fiamma’s_  triumphant return to stardom and securing her rightful place as a diva to be reckoned with.  Despite everything, Hailey couldn’t help but feel that whiff of annoyance at these admirers who just hours before whispered amongst themselves that Alessandra would rival Callas in her downfall.   

But old habits died hard, and so here she was, weaving in and out through the adulating throng to find Alessandra, asking everywhere she went a fumbling “ _Vedi_ _Alessandra_?” and “ _Dov'è Alessandra_ _?”_  to many a shrugged shoulder, animated hand gestures, and sometimes a series of words that went far too fast for her two weeks of Italian.  Then she would sigh and thank them, continuing her search from the piazza to the palazzo and back again. 

She was just her dresser - that was all.  But her time as Rodrigo’s assistant had her special assistant senses tingling, like when she just  _knew_ that Rodrigo needed something, leading him to give her one of those gawking stares when she randomly appeared with a fresh  _mate_  or a “Do you need anything?” and he’d answer, “Wow, Hai-Lai, you are reading my mind!”  She didn’t know what Alessandra needed, she just knew she  _was_ needed.  And thus her search continued.  

So when she rounded a corner in an area of the palazzo she had not yet traversed, she almost didn’t see the dark form huddled on the third step from the top as she tread down the stairs.  Probably some drunken admirer who had lost their way and plopped down with an “ _O_ _Dio_!” in that special brand of flouncy drama that only Italians could pull off.   

Well…not only Italians.  Mexicans certainly gave them a run for their money in the drama department. 

And this particular Mexican caught her attention right away. 

“Hey, Maestro!  Great concert!” she piped heartily. 

“Hai Lai.  Thank you.”  He seemed to address her from behind a fog, and that was when Hailey’s assistant senses set off alarm bells.   

Turning on her heel with no small measure of relief that it had been  _Rodrigo_ who had set them off in the first place (she was  _not_ really looking forward to another stilted conversation with the restored diva who had been breathing icy fire in her direction like a dragon who was still deciding whether it was worth its time to incinerate her or not), she climbed the steps and took a seat next to him. 

“Really, it was a great concert.  Your opera debut was a huge success!” 

Rodrigo breathed some kind of confirmation.  “Mm.  Yes, it was good.  She was something, wasn’t she?  Really just...wow.” 

“Yeah.”   

Being lost in some kind of reverie was hardly unusual for the maestro, but Hailey had spent enough time with him that she could easily identify the particular flavor.  There were the daydream-y kinds where he just seemed lost in his own thoughts, floating on clouds above the rest of the world, while he thought about either the unfortunate plight of flightless birds ( _Did you know that not all birds can fly, Hai Lai?  Do you think that they look at their wings and wonder what they are for?_ ) or he was trying to parse out the peculiarities of the English language ( _Why do you pronounce things so differently from word to word?  Why does ‘_ _i_ _come before e except after c’ when it doesn’t always, Hai Lai?_ )  There was the more intense sort of reverie when his brain was flying a million miles a minute while he worked on thirteen different instrumental parts, probably conducting them all at once, or where he rearranged his musicians to see if he could produce a different sound ( _Union Bob infects his section, he always plays ahead of the beat, but I can’t move him.  And I wish I could put Dee_ _Dee_ _in front, and then maybe he wouldn’t always be behind.)_ or the reverie where he was fuming over something that had upset him, easily identifiable from the speed of his breathing and the force of his sighs ( _Do you see me in New York?  No!  I am not in New York!  I left New York when the red tape broke the family!  So why would I meet with the Mayor when I am not in New York, Hai Lai?!)_  And then there was the nervous flavor when he would constantly spout things to himself to psych himself up ( _She will play. Of course she will play – why wouldn’t she?  Yes.  Yes, yes.  She cannot resist Sibelius…)_  

Finally, there was the worst kind of reverie.  It was one she had only seen once, in Mexico.  After Maestro Rivera had denounced and cursed him in front of the kids’ orchestra and, in essence, broken Rodrigo.  It looked like the daydream-y kind at first glance, but when he spoke, his words were colorless, drained of their typical vibrancy and life.  And it was accompanied by the “blackened soul” stare, a term coined by Lizzie whose college ex had the tendency to use it:   _It’s like he’s staring into his soul, and the more he stares, the more he can see the blackened edges of it until he stares so much that that’s all he sees._  

She wanted to ask if he was okay, but she knew what response she’d get with that question.  She also couldn’t lead with “Hey, have you talked to Maestro Rivera?” because that would probably earn her a brush-off or he might just get up and leave.  So she led with what she had come with. 

“Hey, have you seen Alessandra?” 

“Uh – no.  No, I haven’t.  I was just…sitting.  A moment.” 

“Sure.”  She smoothed her dress over her knees.  “I was just trying to find her to see if she needed anything else.” 

“Mm.” 

“I mean not like she would.  She had an entire entourage to help her.” 

“Yes, yes, she has lots of – people.” 

Was Alessandra the cause for the melancholy tint to this reverie?  It was always possible.  He clearly hadn’t been in love with her (beyond whatever moment they shared yesterday and…whatever moments from the night before that which Hailey was definitely  _not_ going to think about), but he probably cared deeply for her.   

Plus being shot at onstage couldn’t be fun. 

“I’m sorry about what happened with Alessandra.” 

“Hmm?” 

“The – knife, and the cutting your hair off.  And pretending to shoot you.” 

“Oh, yes, yes, that was…not good.”  He paused.  “Thomas said that I am a wanker, and I think that he is right.” 

“Thomas called you a wanker?” 

“Yes, he did.”  A little life returned to his voice.  “A wanker is…actually, I don’t know what a wanker is.  What is a wanker?” 

“I think a wanker is a British term for a guy who jerks off, so…like a ‘jerk-off.’” 

Rodrigo made some noise of consideration.  “This is…yes, I suppose this is true.” 

She lightly bumped his shoulder.  “I don’t think you’re a wanker.” 

He finally turned to her, his features graced with a hint of his usual zest.  “Really?” 

“No.  I mean, you’re flighty and you’re definitely crazy, and you’re the most disorganized person on the planet –“ 

That earned her a sliver of a smile.  “Ay, Hai Lai – I’m not  _that_ disorganized.” 

“ –but you don’t  _lie_.”   

She was thinking of Erik, who still made her blood boil.  But just like that, the smile was gone, all animation vanished. 

“Mm.  No, I don’t.” 

Clearly she’d touched a nerve.  Was it because of what she had said about Alessandra earlier? 

_You can't just tell someone that you love them and then backtrack._  

“I mean – you don’t  _mean_ to lie.  Like you don’t do it on purpose to – cover something up.” 

He didn’t even respond, just gave the faintest nod of his head like he could barely hear her through the fog that had once again descended. 

She scratched at her ankle in the silence that followed, desperately trying to think of some way to change the subject, move it away from Alessandra-related topics.  Especially since she was beginning to suspect it was the reason for what was looking more like a sulk than the bad kind of reverie. 

“So, have you heard from anyone about the concert?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Have you heard from colleagues or fellow musicians...or y'know, fellow conductors?  I know that practically the whole world was watching.” 

“Yes.”  He straightened a little.  “Some of my colleagues, some of the musicians I played with in Berlin, and in Iceland, the former maestro of the Oslo Symphony – and…many others.”  It was like the idea of thinking of all of them tired him, his thought petering out. 

It was a risk to ask, knowing the response it could create in him, but she couldn’t help but think maybe there was a chance talking about it would help.  Especially since it was in no way related to Alessandra.  “Have you heard from Maestro Rivera?” 

She regretted it as soon the words left her mouth, his intake of breath was so sharp, like her question had physically wounded him.  He took a measured breath, his head tilting back to gaze momentarily skyward before the weight was too much and it dropped.  There was the distinct sound of him trying to breathe evenly, struggling to get words out.  “No.” 

She hastened to correct her mistake.  “I’m sure he was watching, and he’ll just – contact you when he’s ready.” 

Eyes closed, he was the picture of a man who was waging an internal battle against emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.  “He cannot contact me, Hai Lai.” 

“What do you mean?”  She glanced at her watch, attempting some mental gymnastics to calculate the time difference between Italy and Mexico.  “Because it’s too late in Mexico?” 

“No.”  He addressed the heavens above.  “Because it is too late for him.” 

The realization hit Hailey like a punch in the gut, making her breath leave her in a rush.  “What – what happened?” 

Some of the haze returned, his words hollow-sounding.  “Placido told me…after the  _Don Giovanni_ duet.  He offered his condolences.  I don’t know what…happened.  He was sick.” 

Without thinking, she had looped her arms around his shoulders.  “I’m so sorry.”  She squeezed, knowing any words of comfort were useless.  “I’m so sorry, Rodrigo.” 

Slowly his hands came up, like his brain was receiving signals that someone was hugging him ten seconds after the fact.  “It’s okay, Hai Lai.”  He patted her arms absentmindedly.  “It’s okay.” 

That Rodrigo sounded like he was trying to comfort  _her_  shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it made her press her head into his shoulder and hold on that much more. 

“It’s okay, Hai Lai,” he continued, bowing his head and resting his chin on her forearms, his facial hair prickly against her skin.  “It’s okay.”  The patting eventually stopped as his fingers curled over her triceps.  “It’s okay, Hai Lai.”  Gradually, he crumpled, collapsing a bit more as his proffered words of comfort climbed in pitch.  “It’s okay,” he hiccupped, as his hands dug into her shoulder blades, clutching at her as though hanging on for dear life.  “It’s okay, Hai Lai.”  His head finally came to rest on her shoulder, his full weight falling into her as her hand cupped the back of his head.  “It’s okay.”  His shoulders shook, his face buried in her shoulder, baptizing her neck with tears while she stroked his hair, rocking him a little.  “It’s okay, Hai Lai,” he sobbed quietly into her dress, until his next attempt at words failed and he gave himself over completely to wave after wave of sorrow. 

It was impossible to tell how long they were locked in that embrace – a few minutes?  Half an hour?  But just as suddenly as the torrent started – it stopped, with Rodrigo abruptly extricating himself from her, wiping furiously at his eyes.   

“Ay!”  She heard him take a few noisy breaths, the sound of someone desperately trying to get themselves under control.  “Ay, ay!”   

Then, like absolutely nothing had happened – he bounded to his feet.  “You’re right,” he blurted out in that non-sequitur way of his.  “I should go find Alessandra.” 

Used to his hairpin turns of mood and how she had to redirect him, her hand shot out before he could leave.  “Hey.”  Latching onto his wrist, she gave him a little tug.  “If you need anything, I’m here.  Okay?” 

Words seemed to momentarily fail him, so he just captured her hand in both of his, bringing it to his mouth and planting a kiss on it that lasted several seconds, his eyes closed.  “Thank you, Hai Lai.”  Gratitude peeped through his wall of sorrow as he stared at her for a beat too long before turning on his heel and abruptly descending the steps.  

\--------  

As was often the case with looking for something, it was only once Hailey stopped looking that she found Alessandra.  At the after-party of all things, sporting a flame-colored number with ruffles and frills that befit her namesake, burning like a whole screaming world on fire. 

Hailey thought it the better part of valor to keep her distance, finding a perch on the stairs where she could view the festivities unscathed.  Rodrigo appeared at some point, and she watched with some apprehension as he approached  _La_ _Fiamma_.  But their exchange was brief, and he soon left, looking even more shell-shocked than when he'd arrived.  She considered following him, but she knew steps that swift and purposeful meant he wanted to be alone.   

Still – Hailey kept her phone on, the volume at its loudest setting when she went to bed.  Toying with it as she lay there, she found all the things she could do without internet - like assigning ringtones to people.  And no, it wasn’t  _stalling_ because she wasn’t necessarily  _waiting_  to get a text or a phone call.  She was just being prepared.   

But she must have drifted off at some point because it seemed like only a few minutes had elapsed when she was awakened by a “ _Hai Lai….Hai Lai.  Hai Lai?_ ” 

“Nngh.” 

“Hai Lai, are you awake?” 

“Rrnnnrrgh…Rawrio?”  Her room was pitch black save for the light that filtered in from the street lights outside.  He was seated on the edge of her bed:  she could just make out his profile.   

She struggled to sit up, her brain struggling towards coherence.  “Nnnh…you okay?” 

“Mm.  What?  Yes, I’m okay.”  

“Did you…”  Her brain was still operating on a five-second delay so she moved to join him, swinging her legs over the side, every atom of her protesting the whole way.  “Did you find Alessandra?  I – it’s dark – do you –“  She let out a big yawn.  “Do you want me to turn on a light?”  Her hand was reaching for the lamp next to her bed when he stopped her. 

“No, no, it’s okay.  I don’t mean to disturb you.” 

That he had awakened her specifically for that reason hardly seemed relevant. 

“Yes, I saw Alessandra.” 

Hailey’s brain woke up a little at that, the delay receding, remembering she’d actually seen their exchange.  “How’d it go?” 

“She threatened to kill me.” 

“ _What_?”  The words were like a live wire to her brain, lighting up each of her nerve endings and heightening her senses.   

“If she ever saw me again.  She said she would destroy me.”  The outline of his shoulders rose and fell.  “This is not news.” 

“I guess not.”  She ran a hand through her hair, smoothing down what was probably horrific bed-head.  “Since she kinda broadcast that to the world.”  Her conversation with Alessandra from earlier came back to her.  “I tried to talk to her earlier.  To let her know that what happened between us was just a thing that happens from time to time.  And then not even that often.”  Tugging at the hem of her tank top, she was suddenly aware of how low-cut it was.  Not that he could see it in the dark. 

And not that he would care...probably. 

"What – thing?" 

"The uh, the kissing."  She was thankful that he couldn’t see the blush that colored her cheeks.  "Anyway, I tried to tell her it wasn't that big a deal." 

"Ah.  Yes..."  He seemed to be studying the outline of the massive armoire in the corner of her room.  "It is a thing that happens, sometimes.  Why do you think that is?" 

Her brain was fully awake now.  "Why do I think – the kissing keeps happening?" 

"Yes." 

"Um..."  She swallowed, trying to gauge what mood he was in and why he was asking, ultimately deciding on nonchalant.  "I think we just kinda – get caught up in our emotions, that kind of thing." 

"Mm." 

Despite the dark, she crossed her arms self-consciously.  "Like earlier, I had just sort of yelled at you, so I think you were probably – sorry?  Or feeling guilty, and you wanted to say sorry.  So...that's why." 

"Mm.  Yes, that makes sense."  He nodded. 

"And like with the first time, I was feeling really excited because you had just arranged everything so I could play with the orchestra, and it was my first time playing on a professional stage, so...yeah.  I think we were just really excited." 

He nodded again.  "Yes, we were.  You were the best part of that night, Hai Lai." 

"What?"  She turned towards him in her surprise.  "No, I wasn’t.  I wasn't even that good, it was my first time." 

"Oh, no, I'm not talking about your playing, though you did really good.  I just meant – with Ana Maria yelling at the audience, calling them 'bourgeois pigs' and walking off, and me having to play and not conduct...and the Biben..." 

He trailed off, and Hailey shifted, suddenly feeling the places his shirt brushed against her arm.  "Uh, thanks.  So – yeah.  We were both really emotional that night.  And then when we were in Mexico in your old room at your grandmother's house, well – it had been a really long day.  And feeling like I was in a different time and seeing all of the beauty of your home country, and then with what your grandmother said after dinner - I was probably just feeling swept up in everything.  Like – there was something in the air like...magic."   

"Mm mm, yes.  You said Mexico was a fantasy.  Not our real lives." 

"Right."  It was getting easier the more she talked about it.  "And then the third time -" 

"Before you left for – Montana, was it?  And then with Andrew Walsh." 

There was a bite in his tone at the mention of her former paramour's/employer's name.  Not that she could blame him.  "Yeah.  Well, the orchestra had been locked out, and we didn't know when we would be back together.  And I was leaving, and I didn't know when I would be back or when I'd see you again, so...it was just like a 'goodbye,' you know?" 

"Mm."  He scrubbed a hand over his chin.  "Makes sense, yes.  The first time was 'I'm excited,' the second 'I feel magic,' the third 'goodbye' and today – yesterday - 'I'm sorry?'" 

"Yeah."  She swung her legs out, stretching them a little in relief at what could have been a  _far_ more awkward conversation.       

"Yes.  That all makes sense, yes," he repeated, and Hailey wondered if maybe he had just needed to talk about something to get his mind off of Alessandra and Maestro Rivera.  Like when he used to come to her and say, “Talk to me, Hai Lai.  I cannot be thinking about this thing right now.”  And she would talk to him about whatever was on her mind or tell him a funny anecdote from her oboe lessons with prepubescent boys or show him the latest animal video a friend had sent her. 

But now he turned towards her and instead of bidding her goodnight asked, "What about now?" 

" _What_?  What about…now?"   

He shrugged.  "What about now?" 

She let out a little nervous laugh.  "Um – we're not...kissing now…?" Her voice went up at the end, turning it into a question as though she had to check to make sure she hadn't missed something.   

"Also there is a problem," he continued, ignoring her stuttering.  "I did not kiss you today – yesterday – because I was sorry." 

"Oh.  You didn't?"   

"No."  He anchored a hand behind her head, making her breath catch.  "I kissed you because I wanted to.  The opening night, too.  I did not kiss you because I was excited.  If I kissed people when I was excited, I would have kissed Union Bob and Cynthia and Warren Boyd and Thomas.  I did not even kiss Ana Maria that night.  Just you, Hai Lai."  And with that, he laid a soft kiss on her cheek.  "And your reasons are all bullshit." 

"My reasons?"  She couldn't even care how breathy her voice sounded. 

He moved up to her temple, kissing her brow.  "Yes.  Your reasons."  Trailing his lips across her forehead, he kissed her other brow.  "You do not kiss people because of magic.  And what happened in Mexico might have been a fantasy for you..."  He moved lower, sweeping her hair back and planting a kiss just under her ear.  "But it was not a fantasy for me," he whispered, sending shivers up her spine as warm air ghosted over her earlobe.   

"Huhh...." 

"And kissing people goodbye..."  He continued, pressing his lips to the side of her neck.  "I do not kiss people goodbye.  Do you kiss people goodbye, Hai Lai?" 

"Um..." 

"Like..."  He kissed the nape of her neck.  "Your friends.  You roommate - Lizzie, yes?  Do you kiss her goodbye?  Did you kiss her goodbye before you went to Montana?" 

 "I..."  Hailey was finding it hard to remember what the question was.  "No..." 

His hands found her waist, drawing her closer to him as he continued his exploration and his interrogation.  "So all your reasons are bullshit, Hai Lai.  Though I wonder..."  And she felt herself being lowered, giving in to the gravity as he gently pushed her onto her back, settling himself over her.  "What bullshit reasons would you have for now?" 

She could just make out the glint of his eyes from the light filtering in, his hair falling over his forehead as he leaned over her.  Her fingers stole to the side of his face, sweeping it off his brow, smoothing it back.   

He kissed her left cheek.  "Tell me, Hai Lai..."  He kissed her right cheek.  "I want to hear this." 

"Um..."  She struggled to even her breathing enough to form words.  "I guess...because of um –  _oh!"_ She cried out when he nipped at her ear.  "I, uh...emotions.  The...emotions from....the concert..."  He'd moved to her neck again, trailing little kisses in a line down her pulse point.  "And um – also...Maestro Rivera..." 

He froze, and Hailey mentally kicked herself for bringing it up.  A few tense seconds ticked by while she agonized over whether he would crumple into a sobbing heap or just leave.  But then he uttered a fierce " _Bullshit,"_ his mouth closing around her earlobe, making her moan, her fingers digging into his back.  Whatever regret she might have felt evaporated in the face of his zeal for... 

For… 

_Where is this going?_  

Her neurotic side was trying to make her think, and she did her best to tell it to fuck off, concentrating instead on how Rodrigo was –  _yes! -_ trailing open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone, moving lower and lower and –  _oh God! -_ reaching where her breasts spilled out over the top of her tank top –  _finally!_... 

But Hailey’s super neurotic side kicked in again, with _Are you really going to have sex with him?  What if it destroys your relationship?  Your friendship?  Your ability to play in the orchestra?  Are you sure he didn't have feelings for Alessandra?  Would this be grief sex...?_  

"Hey…Rodrigo," she managed between breaths. 

He didn't stop, murmuring a breathless  _"Hai Lai..._ " that nearly undid her resolve then and there. 

"I just...hey..."  She managed to hook her fingers under his cheeks, drawing his attention towards her.  "C'mere." 

"Hai Lai?"  He slid up her body, and some part of her brain registered that he was no longer wearing his jacket or his scarf.  Had he been wearing them when he came in, or he had already started disrobing?  "Okay?" he asked, some concern creeping into his voice as his labored breathing started to even out. 

"Yeah."  Her hands cupped his face purposefully.  "I just figured I should have something to show for my bullshit reasons."  She giggled. 

He grinned down at her, planting a kiss in the middle of her forehead.  "Yes," he agreed, raining kisses down on her face in a slow but delicious downpour:  kissing her nose, then her cheeks, moving in tighter and tighter circles towards her lips, till finally -  

_"GUICHIE, GUICHIE, YA_ _YA_ _, DADA!"_  

To say the noise startled them was an understatement:  while she nearly jumped out of her skin, he practically flew off of her to the other side of the bed. 

"What is -?!" 

"The  _fuck_!  'M sorry!"  She fumbled with her phone as it continued to blare out its offensive, mood-ruining music. 

_"MOCHA CHOCOLATA YA_ _YA_ _!"_   

" - that noise?!  Hai Lai -!" 

"Here, I'll just – it's my phone, I had it set to..."  She had chosen _Lady Marmalade_  for Lizzie because she always cajoled, bullied and usually ended up full-on dragging Hailey up to sing it with her whenever they went out for karaoke.   

"Ay!  Ay,  _ay_!" 

"Just a second, I'll -" 

_"CREOLE LADY MARMALAAAAAAAADE..."_  

_"_ _Puta madre_ _!"_  

The volume button wasn't responding so she started frantically pushing other buttons to turn it off when - 

" _said_ _she was fucking done, and I was like_  – wait, Hailey?!  HAAAAAAALES!" 

"Lizzie?  Hey, just a -"   

"- _do you mean it's late?  Fuck off!  I can fucking drunk dial my best friend if I fucking want to, you're not my_  -" 

"Okay, Lizzie.   _Lizzie!_ " 

The creak of the bedsprings sent a jolt of panic through her as Rodrigo got to his feet.  "Hai Lai, maybe I should -" 

"No, just wait a second!"  Her hand shot out, cutting him off.  Then, realizing he couldn't see her hand, she fiddled with the lamp, flooding the room with light.  If the dulcet tones of Christina Aguilera and L’il Kim hadn’t been enough to spoil the mood, then shining a spotlight into their erstwhile intimate setting definitely tipped the scales.  They both shielded their faces, blinking several times while their eyes adjusted. 

“I just need to – “   

" - _picked up, didn't she?  NOOOOOO! FUCK YOOOOOUUUUU_!!" 

Hailey let out an involuntary sigh, her shoulders slumping as more screeching sounds filled the space.  "I'm sorry – I'm sorry, I'll try to figure out what's going on, though I think she's just drunk."    

"It's okay."  He shrugged on his jacket and looped his scarf around his neck. 

"It'll just take a second."  She hated the note of pleading that had crept into her voice.  He looked like he might be considering this as he made his way over to her, his steps slowing as he reached where she was sprawled.  So she tried for sexy humor.  "I'd...like to get back to my bullshit reasons."  Her giggle was thin, but she hoped it lightened the mood enough. 

He eyed her for a moment; then, cupping the back of her head, he leaned down and placed a quick kiss on top of it.  "Goodnight, Hai Lai."  And just to add insult to injury, he gave her what was possibly the unsexiest hair ruffle ever, and left her room. 

"Rodrigo!"   

Or maybe  _fled from her room_ was a more accurate description. 

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!"  Hailey groaned as she collapsed on her bed. 

" -  _that wasn't fucking ON, okay?  So you can_  – wait, Hales?  HALES!  Did you just say Rodrigo?!" 

Lifting the phone to her ear, she mashed the button that took her best friend off speaker and stoppered the scream that was crawling up her throat.  "Yes, he just left," she intoned. 

"Left?!   _Holy shit!_   Were you guys - ??  Oh  _fuuuuck_!  Did I just fucking cockblock you?!" 

Hailey tried and failed to hold back her sigh of resignation.  "No.  He just – came in to talk." 

"At fucking – wait, what time is it?" 

Hailey glanced at the clock and let out a pained noise.  "4:05." 

“Are you in bed?” 

“Yeah, but – “ 

“ _Holy shit!_ ” 

“Okay, Lizzie, really it’s not that big a –“ 

“No.  No no no no, you listen to me, Hailey Fucking Rutledge.  Are you listening?" 

Hailey couldn't help shaking her head at that, eyes rolling into the back of her head. 

" _Well_?  Are you listening?" 

 "Yes!" 

"Okay, so here’s what you’re gonna do.  Put some pants on or shorts or throw a dress on or whatever and go run the  _fuck_ after him!” 

Hailey tried to gather every last bit of her patience.  “Lizzie.  It’s 4 am.  I’m  _exhausted._   He woke me up because he was upset about his maestro – Maestro Rivera just died.  Or he just found out.  I’ve had a  _really long_ day, and I have to be out of here tomorrow because this is Alessandra’s palazzo, and she basically hates me now." 

"Wait, why does she hate  _you_?  She seemed to be going after Rodrigo.  With the knife and the fucking gun?!  I mean that shit was hard-core." 

"Well, yeah because...because they hooked up and he told her that he loved her, but then he kissed me and she saw it and - " 

"Wait,  _what_?   _Again?!_ Hales, how many times is that now?!" 

"Four."  Not that she was counting.  Except that she had just counted.  "But it didn't mean anything." 

_Even though Rodrigo said it did.  Sort of._  

"Jesus  _fuck_!  When are you guys gonna get it out of your fucking systems already?!  This is like the fucking seven-year itch with you two!" 

And all of a sudden, Hailey was really, really tired.  And really, really  _done_.  "I don't want to talk about it, okay?  So - are you dying?” 

“No.“ 

“Good.  I’m going to sleep.  I love you.  Good night.” 

“Okay, but come home soooooooon.  I miss your stupid fucking face.” 

Hailey’s smile felt more like a grimace.  “Yeah.  As soon as fucking possible.” 

\----- 

Though she didn't necessarily  _look_ for Rodrigo the next day or the day after that, she thought she would at least run into him somewhere before she left Venice.  But he'd disappeared again, and she didn't see him until she was back in the States.  It was actually for the better, she rationalized, giving her time to cool down and think... 

Rodrigo had basically stated that the reason they kept kissing was because he wanted to.  Or that was why he kissed her, anyway.  And insinuated that this was why she kissed him.  Just because they wanted to.   

When she thought about it, it wasn't all that different from her supposed "bullshit reasons."  She'd said they were caught up in their emotions; he said they were just acting from lust, which was an emotion, too.  But kissing her because he wanted to could easily have meant that he'd only wanted to in that moment.  Which was how he could declare his love for Alessandra one day and the next, kiss Hailey.   

Maybe he really  _was_ a wanker. 

Though it's not as though Hailey didn't know that.  Which was why she had been so determined to disregard any of their kisses up to that point, to keep insisting to Lizzie that it didn't mean anything.  That none of it did.  Because it's not like anything was going to come from it. 

And not like she even let herself  _want_ anything to come from it because she wasn't that fucking stupid. 

Not that Hailey would’ve expected anything different, but there wasn't even any contact from him until she finally saw him at the baptism ceremony.  But then he greeted her with a soft kiss on the cheek and something about how they  _needed_ to talk.  And Hailey's hopes went up, in spite of herself...just to have them come crashing down when he finally revealed that what he had been so  _desperate_ to talk to her about was asking if he wanted to have a child with her. 

So everything was returned to status quo. 

Except...maybe Venice had changed her a little.  Maybe she realized she needed to take a page from Rodrigo's book and stop fucking  _thinking_ so much.  Just do things because she wanted to.  Like conducting. 

So she resolved that the next time she wanted to kiss Rodrigo, she would.  Just throw caution to the wind and fucking  _do it._  

Old habits died hard, but that didn't mean she couldn't kill them herself. 

* _Fin_ *


End file.
